


Memories Drag Me Under

by superstarrgirl



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, but i was toying with this idea and this kinda came out, so here you go, the ending kinda sucks I'm sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-02
Updated: 2014-12-02
Packaged: 2018-02-27 19:58:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2704676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superstarrgirl/pseuds/superstarrgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He peppers kisses on her temple and her cheeks and her jaw, whispering, “I promise I’ve got you. I promise I’m not going anywhere – I promise.”</p>
<p>The next day, Percy disappears.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memories Drag Me Under

**Author's Note:**

> PJO and HoO are not mine. recently started rereading both series and I've forgotten how happy Percy and Annabeth make me. So, i wrote this silly little thing. It's not much and the end is pretty rough but you get what you get.

Their first fight is loud and intense and about 99% Percy’s fault. He’s willing to admit that. The 1% that isn’t his fault is just empty space because Annabeth is just as stubborn as he is and will not yield to the fact that it was a little bit her fault. 

She’s clicking away on Daedalus’ laptop, scrolling through designs and inventions while Percy rests with his head on her lap, reaching up every once in a while to fiddle with her father’s graduation ring. He whines every couple of minutes about how she’s ignoring him, but she placates him with a kiss and a scratch of nails against his scalp till he quiets. 

Some of the younger campers are splashing around in the Sound, squealing with glee as they throw water at each other. A daughter of Apollo calls out Percy’s name, trying to escape her brother. Percy gives a lazy smile and waves his hand, letting the sound of shrieks and childish laughter wash over him as the girl’s brother is swept aside by a small wave. “You shouldn’t do that.” Annabeth reprimands, but he can hear the smile in her voice. “What if he drowns?” 

He turns sea green eyes on her and lets one side of his mouth tilt up into a smirk. “I’ll go out and save him. Play the hero – after all, the Great Prophecy was about me.” Annabeth laughs now, her grey eyes dancing as she presses a light kiss to his cheek. 

“The prophecy wasn’t about you, Seaweed Brain.” She teases, returning to the laptop and some of the schematics for Olympus. “It was about Luke.” Percy suddenly stiffens in her lap, his whole body going rigid. It’s a bit of a testy subject – not just that the son of Hermes was the focus of the Prophecy but Luke in general. The couple says nothing for a moment, Percy watching the kids in the Sound but not really paying attention. 

“If it had been me,” Percy starts hesitantly, not daring to look at her. “Do you think you would have been able to let me kill myself? Would you have let me die?” The question catches Annabeth totally off guard; surprising her so much she fumbles the laptop and almost drops it. Percy catches it and snaps it closed, perching it on the ground beside him to look at her. 

“I don’t know.” She says after a moment, leaning against the tree and running a hand through Percy’s black hair. “I don’t know.” 

Percy sits up so suddenly that Annabeth feels like she lost a limb. “But if you had to do it.” He says, looking so serious that it’s almost jarring. “If you had to choose between me and Luke, had to make that choice, which one would you choose?” 

“That’s not even close to your original question, Seaweed Brain.” She snorts, reaching for her laptop but Percy pulls it away. She jerks in surprise, staring at him with her grey eyes glowing. 

“Answer the question, Annabeth.” He demands lowly. 

She leans back and surveys him. “I told you,” she finally grounds out, voice tense. “I – don’t – know.” 

“I should think the answer would be pretty simple.” Percy spits, crossing his arms over his chest. He’s only a foot away but she suddenly feels like he’s a thousand miles away. “I’m your boyfriend, I feel like that should stand for something.” 

Annabeth furrows her brow and blinks at him. “But you weren’t my boyfriend in the war.” She tells him slowly, watching his eyes as they flicker and burn in the sun. “Luke was like a brother to me, but you’re my best friend – Percy, the answer isn’t as simple as you think.” Again, she reaches for the laptop. This time Percy gives it to her but there’s something like disgust in his gaze when he looks at her. 

“Well.” He finally mutters, and she can hear the wounded note in his tone. “I see.” And then he stands and marches off before Annabeth can work out what’s going on. She blinks in shock, clutching the laptop close her chest, but then she’s suddenly alive with anger. Who in Hades does Percy think he is? He asked a question and she gave him an answer – what, just because she didn’t give him the answer he wanted he’s going to go cry himself to sleep? She leaps to her feet. 

“Percy!” She shouts at her boyfriend’s retreating back. She calls his name again but he ignores her. When she’s about five feet away she stops. “Perseus Jackson, look at me.” He turns slowly to face her, his hands shoved inside his pockets and his lips pursed like a child. 

“What?” He demands moodily. Annabeth raises her eyebrows in surprise, and even Percy seems to hear how bitter and childish that sounded. He doesn’t backtrack though, just continues to stare at her. 

“Why are you mad?” She asks. “I gave you an answer, and just because it’s not the answer you wanted you’re going to get pissy? That’s not fair.” 

Percy laughs and takes a step closer to her, his lip curled back in a sneer. “Wow, Wise Girl, you really don’t pay attention, do you.” It’s not a question but the venom in his voice catches her by surprise. “You shouldn’t have even had to hesitate, Annabeth. You should have given an answer right away – and it should have been me. I’m your boyfriend for gods’ sake!” Annabeth takes a subconscious step back, distantly aware of the fact that they’re in the middle of the quad, but she doesn’t care. 

“And what?” She demands, voice just shy of a shout. “That’s supposed to make you my first priority? I’ve known Luke since I was 7 – he was my family, Percy! You can’t expect me to make that kind of choice! How would you like it if I asked you to choose between killing me and your mother, hm?” 

“That’s different.” Percy snaps. 

“No, it isn’t!” Annabeth yells, no longer caring if the camp hears them or if the whole of New York hears them – who the fuck does Percy Jackson think he’s talking to? Some little girl who’s just going to lie down and take whatever bullshit he throws her way. “It’s not different at all – Luke was a brother to me, you know that! And you’re my boyfriend and best friend and that means more than anything to me but honestly. Luke was the closest thing I had to family at this camp!” And, okay, that’s not entirely true but she’s pissed.

Percy scoffs derisively, taking a few steps away from her. “Yeah, some great family he was.” He mutters. “Trying to kill Thalia and then you and then me. Real nice choice there, Annabeth.” 

Annabeth’s jaw drops as she stares at him, and then she closes her mouth and straightens her back. “How dare you.” She hisses – Percy starts at the anger and hatred in her voice. “How-dare-you think you have any right to say something like that!” She’s never wanted to smack him harder than right now, and he seems to understand this because he backs up even further. She advances, keeping her eyes pinned to his. He keeps moving back until he hits the Demeter cabin, rattling the old porch. She traps him there, so close that she can count the colors in his eyes and can see the faintest trace of freckles splattered across his cheeks and normally it would be about now that they’d be kissing but she’s so angry that kissing is the furthest thing on her mind. “You do not get to talk about that – you do not get to put the blame on Luke just because you’re in a bad mood. He died for us – he died for you! Without him, you wouldn’t even be sitting here. Kronos would have skewered you. You owe your entire miserable existence to Luke Castellan! How very dare you try and blame him for something he had no control over!” Percy’s staring at her as though he’s never seen her before, something like pity in his eyes, and that incenses her even more. Before she’s even sure of what she’s doing, she goes to hit him – striking his chest and his arms and every part of him that she can reach. 

“Annabeth, Annabeth!” Percy calls, trying to catch her wrists, but she’s in such a state that she pulls out his grip and continues to hit him. It takes a moment for her to realize that she’s crying – sobbing, dragging in gasps of air as she hits him again and again and again. 

And then he finally gets his arms around her and crushes her into his warm chest. Annabeth’s hands are pressed between them, her face buried in Percy’s neck, as she sobs, not even bothering to resist. She feels safe in his arms, warm and loved and though she knows she should feel guilty about her assault, she doesn’t really care. 

“I’ve got you.” Percy whispers into her hair as they both sink to the dusty ground. People are starting to gather, staring curiously at the two gathered in front of the Demeter cabin. “I’ve got you.” Percy repeats, crushing her tighter as her sobs build. 

“Please.” She pleads through her tears, fisting a hand in his tattered and dirty Camp Half-Blood t-shirt. “Please.”

He peppers kisses on her temple and her cheeks and her jaw, whispering, “I promise I’ve got you. I promise I’m not going anywhere – I promise.” 

/\

The next day, Percy disappears. Two days later they find three new half-bloods at the Grand Canyon. At Camp, everyone stares at her as though she knows what’s going on, as if she’s the elected leader. The girl, Piper, almost sobs when she’s told that her memories with Jason aren’t real and that – that stings because Annabeth knows her memories with Percy are real but what she doesn’t know is where her boyfriend is. 

She hates not knowing. 

Jason is a son of Zeus (he calls him Jupiter like a Roman and Annabeth can’t help the immediate feeling of distrust that settles in her stomach), Piper is a daughter of Aphrodite (and Jason calls her a knockout like a lovesick teenager and Annabeth almost laughs because Percy called Annabeth a knockout once and she almost killed him) and the last boy, Leo, is a son of Hephaestus but that doesn’t really surprise anyone. Chiron sends them all off the bed after the fire has been put out and a quest has been decreed. Will Solace rubs Annabeth’s back comfortingly and Butch ruffles her hair affectionately when they’re making their ways back to their cabins. “We’ll find him, Annabeth.” Nico di Angelo promises. Clarisse la Rue crushes her in a hug – a surprise in and of itself – and whispers in Annabeth’s ear, “don’t give up, girlie. He’s still out there, we’ll find the little pipsqueak.” She says it like a promise; like words mean something to a girl who feels like her whole world has been ripped out from underneath her. 

No one in the Athena cabin says anything when Annabeth walks in, but she knows they were all talking about her. “Lights out in fifteen minutes.” She says with as much confidence as she can muster, facing her siblings. They all suddenly jump and fumble with toiletries and pajamas, laughing awkwardly at Annabeth’s raised eyebrows. Right before he goes into the bathroom, Malcolm catches her eye and smiles and she smiles back but it just doesn’t fit right. 

She gets changed into her pajamas and is in bed by the time her siblings are done with the bathroom. “Goodnight Annabeth.” The littler ones chorus as they tuck themselves into bed. 

“’Night, guys.” She responds, burying her face into her pillow and willing sleep to take her. 

Two hours later and she’s still wide-awake, Malcolm’s snores filling the whole cabin. Very quietly, she pushes herself up and onto her feet, slinking across the hardwood floor and out into the peaceful night air. With the grace and agility of a cat, she flies across the grass before the nymphs can catch her, up the stairs and into cabin three. She pushes on the door and slides inside. 

It’s so cold inside the cabin that she almost retreats. But instead she shuts the door and takes in her surroundings – two sets of bunk beds, only one of them slept in. The sheets are pulled back and rumpled, like someone was stolen from them, and Percy’s suitcase is upended on the floor. Almost on instinct, she bends down and starts to shove them back into the case. She stops on a Camp Half-Blood t-shirt that looks brand new but has a faint streak of dirt. She lifts it to her face and inhales deeply – the ocean, salty breeze. It smells like Percy – it smells like home. 

Very quickly, she strips off her tank and pulls on the orange shirt – the fabric dwarfs her, pooling around her knees, but she doesn’t care. It’s a part of Percy, the only part she has left.

Annabeth straightens, making her way over to Percy’s bunk. She sinks onto it knees-first, bracing herself on the palms of her hands. Tacked to the wall, balanced somewhat precariously on a nail, is the Minotaur horn. It’s old and weathered, showing how long it’s been since Percy defeated the Minotaur and since this whole thing started. She reaches out as if to touch it but then hesitates – she doesn’t want to disrupt his room, doesn’t want to change anything. After all, it’s his room and if she knows Percy at all it’s that there’s a method to the madness and an organization to the chaos. She stares at the horn a moment longer before her gaze catches something else. A photograph.

It’s of her and Percy down by the Long Island Sound. She’s propped up between his legs, his back pressed against a tree and she’s in the middle of a sentence, her hands around her face as she talks. There’s a content smile on her face as she explains something, her blonde curls tumbling over her shoulder, but it’s not the look on her face that gives her pause. It’s the look on Percy’s. 

He’s staring at the girl in his lap with his head angled to one side and a soft, delicate smile gracing his face. His green eyes are sparkling as he watches her talk, and there’s something so…gentle on his face that Annabeth almost melts into a puddle right there on his bed. He’s looking at her with so much love and adoration that it’s hard to even fathom. 

Her hands are shaking and tears are blurring her vision when she hears the door open behind her. “Annabeth?” A soft voice calls out – Malcolm, her little brother. “Annabeth?” 

She can’t even see the picture anymore, can only see Percy’s face ingrained in her mind. “I never told him I loved him.” She murmurs, ripping the photograph off the wall and clutching it close to her chest. 

“What?” Malcolm asks, sitting on the bed beside her. He reaches out as if to touch her, but then decides better of it and lets his hand fall uselessly to the bed. 

She turns to face her brother, eyes so clouded with tears that she could hardly breathe or see. “I never told Percy I love him.” She repeats, shoving the photograph at Malcolm before she falls against him and just –

Breaks.

/\

They find him. Annabeth promises herself that no matter what, she’s always going to tell Percy she loves him. 

Together, Annabeth and Percy fall into Tartarus like little dominos one-by-one-by-one. If the last thing Annabeth says is “I love you” to her boyfriend, then so be it. 

“I love you,” She whispers against Percy’s ear and hopes against hope that he hears her, because she’s never meant anything more than she means those three words. 

(He hears, in case you were wondering. He’s just a little slow on the uptake).


End file.
